


Proud

by mckayla (steveromanov)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 07:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3802690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveromanov/pseuds/mckayla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve takes Natasha to visit his parents' graves for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chalantness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalantness/gifts).



> and the post she made saying, "okay, but imagine Steve taking Natasha to visit his parents' graves for the first time in Brooklyn and it's all peaceful and quiet and they don't say much, but that's alright, they don't need to. And then, before they leave, Steve goes, 'They would've loved you. And you would've loved them.' And Natasha will say, "I'm sure I would've. I love their son, after all.'"
> 
> I hope I got it right!

It wasn't his first time visiting their graves since he woke up from the ice. He came often, actually; made it a point to slip away from whatever he was doing at least once a week to drop by the cemetery, whether he was in DC and had to take a mini-road trip up to Brooklyn or if he was at the Tower and just needed to catch the subway in disguise. Whatever the case, Steve always made it there. Even after he started seeing Natasha he still went on a regular basis, and although he never brought it up and she never once asked him where it was he disappeared to for a couple of hours every week, he was also pretty sure that she already knew. She wasn't daft, after all **—** in fact, she was possibly the most intelligent person he knew, alongside Stark and Banner. But Natasha was also respectable in the sense that she never asked any questions that she knew Steve was personally avoiding, no matter how curious she was. She never tested his boundaries. 

This was exactly why one morning during breakfast, after a particularly fulfilling night of delicious, lazy lovemaking, Steve broke the contented silence they were eating in and casually proposed, "Would you like to come with me to Brooklyn later?"

If she was surprised, she didn't show it. "Sure," she answered, spearing a piece of fruit with her fork and looking at him with cool green eyes.

"Okay," he replied, smile small. They finished their breakfast in the same comfortable quiet, occasionally discussing certain things about their colleagues or future plans for the upcoming weekend. Afterwards, the two cleaned up the kitchen before sharing a shower. And although Steve hadn't been all that nervous when he'd asked her out for the day earlier, when Natasha emerged from the bedroom in a violet sundress with her hair done in satiny curls that brushed her exposed shoulders, he suddenly felt a wave of nervousness bubble in his gut. God, she was beautiful. Even though they'd been dating for nearly four months, seeing her so... _free_ never got old. She was so open, open for him. And the fact that she was exposing herself like this—for what they were about to do, where they were about to go? It made him indescribably happy.

Instead of catching the subway, Steve borrowed a car from the Tower's garage. Natasha didn't kick her feet up on the dashboard like she normally did (and which he secretly enjoyed watching her do; it was just another quality he hadn't expected from her). She didn't ask him where they were going, either; instead, she remarked on passing restaurants, telling him that she'd take him to them someday, or hummed quietly to the radio in a beautiful voice—because, of course, Natasha was also a great singer. Steve, on the other hand, wasn't, but she didn't mind when he sang off key to some song from the nineties that he only knew the words to because the chorus repeated them. In turn, she smiled, affectionately rolling her eyes as he fumbled with the lyrics but not once ever criticizing him for being absolutely terrible. 

Six simultaneously horribly and beautifully sung songs later and they were standing outside of the cemetery gate. Natasha's eyes didn't give away the fact that she already knew this was where Steve was taking her. Instead, she reached out for his hand as they walked side-by-side on the soft earth, eventually letting him take the lead. Steve maneuvered around multiple headstones, careful not to disrespect any graves, before coming to a stop at a twin set of marble headstones that looked as new as if they'd been placed that day. The flowers were still relatively fresh, having been set there by Steve only two days ago, and the pictures were even in great shape, allowing Natasha to get a good look at the two people who brought the man standing next to her into the world. It occurred to her then that she'd never seem them before; Steve never showed her any photos, and he never looked at any himself. But she supposed that he really didn't need to—all he had to do was look in the mirror.

Steve was somehow the perfect combination of both of his parents. He had his father's general head shape, but his mother's ears. He and his father shared the same perfect slope of the nose, the same curve of the lips. He had his mother's vibrant blue eyes and long lashes that Natasha sometimes envied him for. His smile was even a combination of theirs; the boyish grin coming from his father but the crinkle of his eyes coming from his mother. And those were all just the physical similarities. Natasha knew that all of the compassion and honesty and politeness and just overall  _good_ that was in Steve came from both of his parents, too.

She was grateful for them. She was grateful because they made him.

They stood there in silence, two pairs of respective cerulean and olive eyes roaming the shiny marble faces of the twin headstones. Time felt irrelevant. Seconds or minutes or even hours might have passed, but neither of them thought to care or count. Natasha vaguely felt the wind tickle her face, but she mostly felt the weight and warmth of Steve's hand wrapped around hers. She could feel his pulse steadily beating in his palm, and just by that, she could tell that he was as relaxed as ever. Content.  _Happy,_ and with her. She was happy, too; happier than she ever thought she was capable of being. That was all because of Steve, of the man she first—technically—met when she was standing over his unconscious body in a staged room. The man that she spoke to on the helicarrier about Captain America trading cards. The man she saved the world with. The man she stopped Hydra with.  _Her_ man. The one she fell for.

"They would have loved you, you know," Steve broke the silence, voice deep and masculine but simultaneously soft and light in her ears. She glanced up at his profile to find that he was still staring at the gravestones, but his hand tightened around hers in the slightest. He slowly turned his head and found her eyes with his own. "And you would have loved them, too. I'm sure of it."

Natasha smiled and tucked herself into his side, effortlessly letting go of his hand and sliding her arm around his lower back. His own arm curled around her shoulders and he pulled her even closer to him, enveloping her in his warmth. It was silent for a few moments again, the wind whistling and ruffling the trees, and it wasn't until they were just getting ready to leave that Natasha reached up, cupped her palm around Steve's jaw and said, "I know I would have. I love their son, after all."

Steve smiled and ducked his head to connect their lips. The kiss was soft and tender; innocently sweet, and he knew that from up in the clouds his parents were watching them at that moment, undeniably happy for their son and what he had with this woman in his arms.

But, most of all, he knew they were  _proud_.


End file.
